Just A Little Action To Calm Down The Nerves
by blottedpen23
Summary: The Cheerios find themselves at Nationals with a tightly wound up solo vocalist. Now what can Sue Sylvester do to remedy that? Why, bring out her resident slutty Cheerio to work on some magic, of course!


**Title:** Just A Little Action To Calm Down The Nerves  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Pairing:** Santana/Kurt, with _slight_ mentions of Santana/Brittany  
**Status:** Completed  
**Warning:** Sex and Booze  
**Summary:**

_The Cheerios find themselves at Nationals with a tightly wound up solo vocalist. Now what can Sue Sylvester do to remedy that? Why, bring out her resident slutty Cheerio to work on some magic, of course!_

**Disclaimer:** Characters are not mine, I simply have them on loan and will be returned eventually.

**Note:** Cross-posting yet another fic from my LJ account. This is my second attempt at an NC-17 rating, experimenting with yet another UC pairing. Slight OOC moments, and I apologize. And I must say that I have no knowledge whatsoever about the workings of a cheering squad and its competitions, but I hope y'all still enjoy this crack!fic :D

* * *

The prospect of heading to Nationals had made Kurt's stomach do its own back flips, both from sheer excitement and from absolute terror. Though Mercedes' presence by his side had made things actually bearable and fun. But the moment she told him that she quit the squad, Kurt's constantly filled with dread, because as the group's only vocalist, he had more responsibility dropped onto his shoulders. And let's face it, only Mercedes can do that 10-minute vocal run. Kurt was willing to admit that not even his well-practiced soprano voice can withstand Mariah Carey.

Kurt had tried to open the topic up to Coach Sylvester, even offering up some ideas to share the solos with Santana (Kurt did think that she did a fine job on her Bad Romance solo). But Sue was having none of it. She'd told him that she actually had a back-up routine in mind. And when Kurt heard that, he felt a sigh of relief escape from him, because if anybody would know how to handle this, it would be Sue Sylvester.

But what Kurt didn't anticipate was that Coach Sylvester was asking_ordering_ him to perform Celine Dion...for fourteen _and_ a half minutes...in _French._

So, you could imagine just how much Kurt started to freak out once he got hold of the sheet music, that it took 2 malls, a whole lot of shopping bags, and a very supportive Mercedes to calm him down enough just so he could read the first line.

Long nights and a ridiculous amount of eye cream later, Kurt finally nailed the routine down. But as every performer would know, singing alone in your room is quite different to performing it in a crowd of no less than a thousand and in a competition that would be broadcasted to the entire world.

To sum it all up, Kurt's feeling ridiculously nervous that it's not even funny anymore (Just ask Artie, whom he'd snapped at during Glee. Though he's incredibly sorry, of course).

So here he was, amongst the hoard of Cheerios, making their way across the airport. He could already see different cheer teams from other schools make their way through the airport, and that's where the bubbling in his stomach decides to make its appearance known. It's at this time that the curses Mercedes for even leaving him alone in the squad. But thanks to Brittany, who still clutches his hand as they stroll along, Kurt feels just a little comfortable. And as much as he'd deny it, he felt good walking behind one Sue Sylvester and have the rest of the travelers part like the red sea to make way for them.

Today, the Cheerios were slotted in for a dry run before the big day. So after they dropped their stuff at the hotel (much to his and Santana's ire, they shared a room), the squad made its way to the arena, and set up for their routine.

After Coach Sylvester's cue, the Cheerios went through their routine with precision and confidence that extinguished the other teams' hopes of ever winning Nationals. The moves and flips were crisp; the song...mesmerizing. And when the last beat passed, and the Cheerios took up their final pose, the watching crowd erupted into deafening cheers. Everyone (even the opposing teams) was loving the set. Everyone except Sue Sylvester.

And from where he stood in the middle of the floor, heaving to catch his breath, Kurt could see her scowl getting deeper and deeper. Though it didn't surprise him, Kurt couldn't help but feel terrified, because he knew that that scowl was for him. In all his nervousness, Kurt flubbed his lines. It would have been okay if it was just a line, but no, he'd messed up a whole verse! Not that other people knew, of course. Kurt doesn't even doubt for a second that none of them understood anything he had sang. Hell, he could have sang the Star Spangled Banner backwards in French and no one would be able to tell the difference. Except Sue Sylvester.

So when Coach Sylvester grabbed him by the collar and took him aside, and gave a little speech on how he shouldn't plan on returning back to Lima in a single piece if he ever tried ad-libbing during the actual competition, Kurt had barely managed not to regress back into a fetus that he was able to walk out the center with enough poise despite the not so subtle unstable legs.

And once he planted himself face first into his mattress, Kurt wanted nothing more to do but sleep. He was tired and he was pissed, and at times like this, sleep doesn't come easy to him. But somehow, that was not the case because it was no sooner than that, he felt his bed dip and Santana began to badger him with something that when he looked up, his couldn't keep his eyes from _not_ widening at her.

"What the hell is that?" Kurt squinted at the shot glass shoved to his face.

"It's vodka, Hummel. What else do you think it is?" Santana managed to keep herself from rolling her eyes at him at his look of utter horror.

"You do know that we have a big competition tomorrow? That to go on a drinking spree would be disastrous?" Kurt asked, incredulous.

"I'm not saying we go and get ourselves drunk. Just a couple shots to loosen the nerves that's all."

"A couple shots does more than loosen my nerves, Santana. It opens up my entire gastric sphincter." Kurt put his face back into the pillow as he swatted Santana's hand away. "Now please keep that away from me unless you want my undigested stroganoff to spew your way."

But before Kurt could feel delighted with himself as he felt his mattress shift, he felt himself get yanked by the collar of his shirt until he was lying on his back with Santana straddling him. His initial response was to shove her off him, but Santana's toned legs, and finely distributed weight was keeping him down.

"What the hell, Santana!"

"Look here, Hummel. We all know how you messed up on our routine..." Santana leaned down to him that they were practically sharing the same breath. Her voice was sending a chill up Kurt's spine, and he forcibly gulped back a squeak so as to not aggravate her more. "And we can't have any of that happening tomorrow. Every single mistake and every uncoordinated move is a point against us, and those judges tomorrow are hawks. They don't wait for mistakes to happen, they_ look_ for them. And if your performance today is the exact same thing you're going to show tomorrow, then you have to expect a whole lot more than dumpster dives and slushies when we get back home."

"You got that, Hummel?" Kurt blinked back tears and nodded as fast as he could, turning his head away from Santana.

"Good. Now..." Kurt watched as Santana leaned over and grabbed the shot glass by the bedside table and pushed it towards his face. "Tip this back because you're gonna need it."

Kurt cautiously propped himself on an elbow, and with a trembling hand, he downed the drink, feeling it burn all the way down his throat. Santana still had him pinned down, but that didn't stop her from expertly twisting her body to grab the bottle from the bedside, and quickly refilling the shot glass; smirking as Kurt tipped back shot after shot.

4 shots in, Kurt could already feel his stomach churning, but he couldn't deny the slight buzz that had entered his mind. But he was grateful because Santana finally decided to get off him. And just when his eyes began to drift shut, he felt himself being manhandled yet again by the Cheerio. And when he looked back up at her, Kurt nearly choked on his own saliva when he saw what she was wearing.

"What is that?"

Santana stood at the foot of the bed wearing nothing but her underwear and...a strap-on. And as much as Kurt tried to keep his eyes up to Santana's face, they still drifted down to _it_...standing erect in all it's sparkly silicone glory.

"Like what you see, Hummel?"

Santana smirked at how she rendered the opinionated soprano speechless, who still had the deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. She slowly crawled her way into bed and watched with a grin at how Kurt seemed mesmerized with the toy, cocking his head slightly to the side.

"Coach Sylvester wanted me to help calm you down."

"And how is _that_ going to help?" Kurt silently urged his muscles to move, but it seemed like he was cemented firmly in place. Propped up on his elbows, he gulped as Santana set her body over his.

"Because sex always loosens me up."

"What makes you think I'll loosen up?"

"Trust me, Hummel. You have to loosen up or this will hurt." This time, Santana gave out a laugh as she sees Kurt hitch a breath as she grinds her hips ever so subtly against his. "Besides, Cheerios always help each other during times of stress, and now that you're one of us, it wouldn't be fair if we excluded you in our little pre-game ritual."

"This is a ritual!" Kurt could feel the rush of blood to his head as his own high-pitch cry pierces his ears...and somewhere else he wished it shouldn't, hoping against hope that Santana wouldn't be able to notice his growing arousal.

Kurt shut his eyes tight and silently repeated _Santana's a girl...Santana's a girl_ in his head, but the firm, slender silicone body that was being purposely brushed against him was driving him nuts. Kurt had to bite his lip down so as to not make any sound that was sure to fuel any fire. And right now, judging by the way she's moving against him, Santana was anything but a raging inferno.

"We need that trophy, Hummel. And if the only way we're winning it is by you not looking like you've been on LSD, then we're doing it." Santana's grin became a full fledged smile when Kurt finally gave in and thrusts up to her. And with that one move, Santana grabbed his face and made him look at her, eye to eye.

"Take your clothes off."

* * *

If someone would have told him beforehand that he'd lose his virginity to a girl, Kurt would have laughed in that person's face, give him/her his signature hair flip, and storm out the door with a grace that Rachel Berry would envy.

But now, Kurt could only shake his head at his thought. And it kinda horrified him as to how easy it was to throw the thought out the window. But really, how could anyone retain any coherent thought when someone's pounding into your ass with a force that Kurt was sure would leave him sore? But damn, he was feeling the flush down to his own cock and he was feeling way _way_ too good.

He feels Santana's hands grip his hips hard, thrusting greedily that Kurt had to keep a hand against the headboard so as to not bang his head every time Santana pushed in. It took a few thrusts to get their pace, and once it was set, Santana was unrelenting. And as Kurt feels the silicone fill him, stretching him wide open, he couldn't help but moan in pleasure. But then Santana stopped thrusting, and this made Kurt whip his head around to her, beads of sweat flying off his slicked hair.

"Why'd you stop?" Santana smirked at the slight tinge of annoyance in his voice as she slides a hand up and down his back, feeling the tension in his surprisingly toned shoulders.

"Nothing. I just-" But Santana stops herself, playfully pushes his head back down, and resumes thrusting into him because there was no way in hell she's ever admitting that Kurt's low guttural _manly_ moan had turned her on.

And once they resumed their rhythm, Kurt felt the pressure building up again, and this time, he pumps his cock along with Santana's thrusts. He's so into it that he doesn't even realize that Santana was already leaning against him, firm breasts pressed against his back, her hands moving away from his hips, now tightly wound around his chest. And Kurt thinks he's imagining Santana moaning against his ear, but everything gets drowned out as he comes into his own hand. Santana keeps pushing against him, helping him ride out his orgasm, and Kurt doesn't even hold a hand up anymore, allowing his forehead to bang onto the wooden board as he comes down his high.

"Oh Jesus, Santana..." Kurt's satiated, quickly succumbing to sleep. He's already flat on the bed that he barely registers soft lips kiss his nape as the pressure between his legs disappears in a soft pop, the draft coupled with exhaustion leaving him trembling.

And for the first time in a long while, Kurt Hummel fell into a deep, comfortable sleep.

With shaking legs, Santana lifts herself off the soprano, and pulls the covers over his naked form. She carefully removes the strap-on and changes her wet underwear before she falls into her own bed with a contented sigh. And the last thought that passed her mind was how she was ever going to convince Kurt to a threesome with Brittany, because if Santana were to admit, sex with Hummel was surprisingly hot.

* * *

As Sue Sylvester watched her Cheerios impress the judges with their routine, she felt herself swell with pride, not only for her Cheerios, but also for herself. Okay...a lot for herself, she did come up with the routine, and because it was her plan that had ultimately calmed her vocalist enough to deliver 14 _and_ a half minutes of flawless Celine Dion..._in French._

And when she congratulated them after their performance, Sue nodded to Santana. Her Cheerio nodded back, but ever observant, she recognized the telltale blush that crept to the Latina's face, and it took a lot for Sylvester to not be appalled.

Kurt was on a high. They won Nationals! Back when the champion was to be announced, the Cheerios were all standing at back, holding each other's hands. He had Brittany on his right with Santana on his left. There was an odd air of calm before it was filled with shrieks that Kurt wasn't sure were his and he knew...they had done it. They won! He went on to hug Brittany tight because really, have you seen her do the no-hand flip split combo? But what surprised him most was when Santana pulled him into a hug that lasted longer than either expected. When they finally let go, both couldn't help but laugh, at how casual things are between them. It was odd even to think that they'd had sex the night before.

After that, everything went into a blur for Kurt. From multiple interviews, various congratulatory words from rival teams, and even to cheer scholarships...he was in a daze until he felt himself being dragged by the hand towards the backstage. Kurt couldn't see who had grabbed him because he was still surrounded by people, and the last thing he knew, he found himself being pressed up against the wall, hot mouth against his. His eyes automatically drift shut as tongues collided with each other in a heated kiss. But then Kurt felt a hand travel down to his waistband, and with a snap, the kiss ended and Kurt found himself alone. It's there that Kurt notices something stuck on his skin along his hips and when he retrieves it, Kurt nearly had a heart attack when he found out just who he'd made out with and that it was that gorgeous guy from Compton that he'd spent the whole morning ogling at. Kurt couldn't help the blush creeping up to his cheeks as he kept the slip of paper, promising himself that he'd call sometime later that night.

But before that, Kurt searches for Santana for _helping_ him the other night, to thank her in the most appropriate way he thinks is possible. When he finds her that afternoon, she's always hanging out with Brittany, or she's surrounded with other Cheerios that she's never alone...and Kurt's still being pulled from left to right for interviews that he decides to just put it all off until that night.

So when he finally gets her alone back up in their room, Kurt stands behind her as she sits at the vanity, removing her mascara and make-up that had caked on her face because of all the sweat. She raises her brow when he turns the chair to the side and he kneels in front of her, grabbing a moist towelette, helping her remove her make-up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Hummel?" Santana asks, but the bite in her voice isn't there.

"I never really got to thank you for last night, Santana."

"What are you getting at?"

Santana feels the cool wetness of the moist towelette gone only to be replaced by a soft firm hand. She never understood when Brittany had told her some time ago that Kurt had the softest hands, but now it's all she could think about.

"I'm just saying that today was a dream for me. It took me quite some time to realize that all this was a reality. But what I do know is that without your help, all this wouldn't have happened."

"Don't go sappy on me, Hummel. You did it all on your own. All I really did was _push_." And both Santana and Kurt realized just how ironic that line was that they both launched themselves into a fit of giggles. It was only when Santana grabbed Kurt's hand off her face and held it on her lap. "So what's his name?"

This time it was Kurt's turn to smirk, his eyes glinting. And he knew that Santana knew of what had occured to him that afternoon backstage. It'd be a miracle if she didn't find out. "Come on, Hummel. Tell me his name."

"His name's Ralph."

"Did you give him your number?"

"No..." At first, the thought of him and Santana becoming friends was such a far cry, but now, Kurt couldn't imagine them not. And yes, he caught that slight disappointment in her tone. "But he slipped me his."

Santana grabbed her purse and began to rummage through it until she fished out her phone, handing it to Kurt. "Call him." But before she could fully comprehend what was happening, she sees Kurt shake his head, gets the phone off her hand before putting it back down.

"Not until I get to show you just how thankful I am."

It was a surprisingly bold move, considering it's Hummel. She wouldn't expect this any less from Puck, but this was Kurt Hummel, the gay soprano gleek, pressing his mouth on to hers, and before she knew it, Santana finds herself kissing back.

Santana had always been the dominant one. In all her relationships, flings and whatnot, she always led. She led Finn away from his virginity, and she even reigns over Puck, but tonight, she let's herself be led and really, Hummel's doing this for her, to thank her for fucking him last night, and Santana thinks that she's more than deserving to relax a bit.

But it surprises her though, just how good Kurt's at dominating (he's got her lying on her back on the bed now, how they got there, Santana wasn't so sure) when he was quite an exceptional sub as was shown last night, and she couldn't help but arch back into him when he presses his weight onto her. He chuckles that she opens her eyes to look at him. He's smirking and she can't help but smirk back.

"Take your clothes off."

* * *

It shouldn't have been a surprise to Santana though, when she finds herself lying naked in front of Hummel, but it is. They're in the position polar opposite as last night, this time Kurt's body hovers above hers. And when he starts grinding against her (fully clothed, much to Santana's dismay), she clings on to him, yearning for more contact. She hides her face against his shoulder as she feels herself getting wetter and wetter by the minute that she's actually seeping. But then he pulls back, and Santana is more than frustrated because after everything she did to him the other night, this is all he got? She thinks that she might have gotten down with the wrong person.

Santana looks up at Kurt with a disapproving look, but she's confused when he simply grins at her before he hovers over her yet again, pulling her up by the back of her head for another searing kiss. And Santana's glad, because this does not make Kurt Hummel a lost case after all.

And as he begins trail kisses from her pulse point at her neck, to her collarbone and down the flat expanse of her belly, Santana finds herself more and more intrigued just as to what he was planning to do.

And when Kurt's head disappears between her legs, Santana couldn't help but let out a squeal of surprise. She's never let anyone do this to her. Sure, she's done this to Brittany almost every time they sleep together, and for a self-proclaimed man-whore, Puck's never gone down on her. So it's a definite surprise when it's Kurt Hummel who ends up sucking and nipping her clit in the most tantalizing way she's ever experienced that when he plunges one well-manicured nimble finger into her, Santana lets out sigh. When a second one comes to join pumping into her, she moans. And when the third one finally comes to join the party, Santana's having a hard time catching her breath.

She feels her walls contract against Kurt's fingers, and she couldn't help but thrust her hips into his face, wanting more and more friction. He keeps her down though with an open palm to her belly, and doesn't stop with his ministrations despite her legs nearly crushing his head; her hands making a mess on his hair.

"D-damnit, Hum-mel. W-where did you learn how to do that!" Her question comes in stutters as she feels herself getting near. Kurt raises his eyes to hers, though his hands are still keen in their job.

"You forget, Santana. I may be gay, but I'm still a guy. Porn is of the same scale as make-overs are for me." And just like that, Santana comes hard into Kurt's hand, surprising him even.

"Oh. My. God!" And Santana's a mass of trembling muscle, but she still finds enough strength to pull the surprised soprano by his head of hair up behind her body as she curls back in him. And she could tell that Kurt's surprised by the choice to spoon, but he lets her sink into him still. And despite his fully clothed state, Santana's satisfied.

But as soon as Kurt thought that she had fallen asleep, he hears Santana's raspy voice cut through the silence.

"If this ever gets out, I will personally cut your dick off, Hummel. You understand me?"

And Kurt could only smile down at the small form in front of him and cuddling his unusual bed mate.

"As long as that same principle applies to you."

And Kurt feels her laughter reverberate to him and he joins her. But she stops though, and she reaches out for something at the bedside table and before he knew it, Santana's turned to face him, holding the cordless hotel room phone in front of his face.

"Now call him."

Kurt could only shakes his head before he takes the phone off her hands and punches in the keys he most certainly did not memorize.

* * *

**A/N: **The second season is shaping up good isn't it? I just hope that Kurt remains on the Cheerios because you know that when he could team up with Santana, they'll be _awesomest_ pair of HBICs ever! LOL :D

Anywhoo. I know I haven't updated 'Crossroads' yet, but don't worry, I haven't abandoned it. The next part is taking a little longer than I thought, but I hope I can get it up by the end of the week.

Thanks for reading!


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